


Salt n Pepper Nick

by BeefyWerewolf



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Explicit Language, Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28104177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeefyWerewolf/pseuds/BeefyWerewolf
Summary: Nick has started graying early and the others tease him good naturedly.
Relationships: Ellis & Nick (Left 4 Dead), Ellis/Nick (Left 4 Dead)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Salt n Pepper Nick

Though he would never admit it, Nick did feel a little... silly about it all.

It had been so long since he had really _looked_ at himself that he hadn't noticed just how roughly the apocalypse had been treating him until Rochelle teased him about it earlier.

It was a mad dash back to Virgil's boat. They had just gotten the gas and with the Burgershot sign switched on every fucking common infected and their mother was hot on their trail; one of them being quite possibly the largest, and most resilient Tank they had seen yet. Coach had thrown a Mollie on it and that just seemed to piss the ugly fucker off as it ripped shit up left and right to launch at them.

Virgil was already pulling away in fear the zombies would swarm on his vessel, so their already hairbrained escape plan became a screaming blur of gunshots and splashing water until they managed to haul their asses onto the back end of the boat by the skin of their teeth.

Having twisted her ankle in the fray, Nick had hefted Rochelle onto his back, and she was still clinging on as they laid out on the deck, far beyond exhausted and soaked to the bone from their impromptu swim.

Long moments passed in silence as they all tried to catch their breath, until Rochelle finally swallowed, and Nick could feel her smile as she pressed her cheek against the top of his head, "Hey, Ellis, sweetie."

Ellis, sprawled flat on his back with his hat pulled low over his face, grunted a simple "mnh" to signal he was listening.

Her fingers came up to tuck a few wet locks of the ex-con's hair behind his ear as she continued, "your boyfriend's getting old."

At the time, Nick just didn't have the energy to say anything snarky. whatever she was getting at, he was happy to ignore for the moment, and maybe she'd drop it. So instead he shrugged the reporter off his back, opting to roll onto his own so he could better feel the warmth of the sun on his face. Though the bayou air was oppressively thick and humid, and he always preferred the din of passing cars in the city to crickets and other wildlife, this felt… good. Having this quiet moment to just breathe and decompress as they sailed away from the horde's snarling chorus.

Of course it lasted all of about two seconds, and then Ellis and Rochelle both were blocking out the sun with their massive fucking heads as they leaned over him, stage-whispering conspiratorially and dripping fat water droplets on his face as they rolled off their own heads.

"Ho-lee shit! I ain't even notice muhself 'til ya said somethin'… you'on't suppose Nick's older than he said, do ya?"

"Could be. He hasn't exactly proven himself to be the most trustworthy of our group… Could be other things he's lying about. Nick may not even be his real name." Rochelle suggested, and as Ellis gasped, thoroughly scandalized, Nick wasn't entirely sure she was joking.

"I am _right here_." He growled, lunging upright to force them out of his space. "And just what in the fuck are you two gossipy hens even clucking about?"

Coach spoke up then, "y'know, I was gonna say something. Just didn't…" he paused to yawn, and tucked an arm under his head as he got more comfortable, tilting to the side to grin directly at Nick, "just didn't want you to get in a big ole tizzy 'bout it before we were safe, seeing as you made such a fuss 'bout that tacky ass suit."

" _Tacky_ —" Nick snarled, incredulous. He wondered, only for a second, how difficult it might be to make Coach falling overboard look like an accident before thinking better of it, and of himself. Sucking in a long breath through his nose, he tried again, his voice tight, "Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on? What, do I have crow's feet? Laugh lines? What?"

Rochelle chuffed, "Laugh lines? You're not that cheery."

Nick turned a dangerous eye on her then, so she shut her mouth, biting back another laugh. "And you're a real ray of sunshine."

"Aw hell, man… here." Clearly taking pity on the older man, albeit barely containing a smirk of his own, Ellis fished a compact mirror out of his coveralls and passed it over.

Nick snatched it (he'd apologize later) and flipped it open to look at himself, and holy _fuck_. If he was being honest, he looked as disgusting as he felt. Dirt and blood smudged all over his face to start, like some kind of fucked up war paint, and then there were the dark circles under his eyes, the chapped lips, and he didn't even want to know what the sticky red-brown mush in his hair—

"Oh, come on!"

After some deliberation, dinner was spent in relative silence. Virgil, who wasn't too chatty to begin with, took his food at the wheel, and the others, seeing as it was the first real food they had even seen in days, were barely stopping to breathe as they wolfed their helpings down. While Nick was thankful for the quiet, it gave him far too much time to stew.

He supposed he should give himself some slack. Fighting through a goddamn zombie apocalypse would take its toll on anyone's body. Even Ellis, in all his stupidly perfect fit and tanned homegrown fucking country boy glory, was starting to look slightly worn. (Operative being slightly. "Dumbshit." He said to himself, fondly.)

But for Nick to be going gray at only 35 fucking years old? That's just not _fucking_ fair. Like most of the men in his family, his father had a full head of shiny black hair well into his 50s, and while the man may have been just as, if not more vain than his son, he saw no reason to cover up a natural part of the aging process.

The same could not currently be said for Nick. He stood squarely in front of the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall, parting his hair this way and that at the roots in a meticulous search for more gray. It was sparse, mostly feathering out from his sideburns and, while he may have found that attractive on other men once upon a time, finding it on himself was a whole different story. (Really, it was more of a stark white than gray, and that only made it worse, as each strand now stuck out brilliantly against his shiny, inky black hair once he'd scrubbed and washed away most of the dirt and blood and various other goo's in the sink.)

It's not that he was suddenly wrestling with the idea of his own mortality. No, he'd been made acutely aware of such years before the green flu swept reared its ugly head. He just thought maybe he'd had time before his body started catching up with him. Before he started feeling too old for all of this. Too old for...

Maybe he could try to find a box of hair color once they got to New Orleans. But then, that would just be stupid, right? Everyone had already seen and covering it up now would only give them more reason to tease him. There was a pair of tweezers in the medicine cabinet that he briefly considered taking to the offending hairs…

"Hey, you." Ellis said as he entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Nick didn't look at him yet, instead pulling the hand towel off the rack to pat his face and chest dry. "Been in here awhile. Was gettin' worried."

Nick laughed humorlessly. "Yeah? You afraid poor old grampa fell off the toilet and couldn't get back up?"

Ellis put his hands up by his shoulders in defense, "you said it, not me."

"Bullshit."

Ellis's voice went soft then, and Nick hated how soothing it was, "baby, we was juss teasin'."

Nick didn't say anything. He'd replaced his hands on the counter, dipping his chin to stare into the drain. A long moment passed, and he wondered if Ellis had just left. And then he was at his back, warm and soft and careful, as callused hands slid around Nick's middle, stroking through the thick, dark hair trailing up his stomach.

"'m sorry, darlin'." The bassist murmured, nosing along the back of Nick's neck as he peppered tender kisses there. "Didn't mean tuh make ya mad or nothin'."

Nick sighed, face softening as he melted helplessly back against his lover. He twisted his head to one side to give Ellis the room he needed, and swallowed, not fully trusting his voice. "No. I'm sorry, sweetheart." He whispered, and then a little louder, laughing ruefully, "I'm an asshole. Better cut your losses now, before you have to start changing my diapers."

" _Hush_." Ellis ordered gently, lifting his head to meet Nick's eyes in the mirror once more. He tucked his chin over his shoulder and circled his arms more fully around him, firm but gentle. "You're stuck wit' me…" He paused then, lips pursing and eyebrows drawing together in thought, "peepaw? Can I call ya peepaw?"

Nick burst into a real laugh this time, his smile elastic and amiable as he tossed his head back onto Ellis's shoulder, "peepaw?! The fuck is that?"

The mechanic grinned, thoroughly satisfied he'd been able to pull his lover out of his sour mood so quickly. "I dunno! Juss figured ya might want to be called somethin' a lil more unique than grampa in your golden years."

"You little shit." Nick said, but he was grinning too, twisting around in Ellis's arms to kiss him. The younger man raised his hands to card through Nick's hair as their mouths slotted together perfectly, warmth blossoming between them. The conman's own hands fell to Ellis's hips, drawing him closer as he moaned softly into Nick's mouth.

"Mmf… Nick, we should—" A rapid knock at the door startled Ellis into a yelp, and both of them nearly jumped out of their skin.

"Nick, honey, if you need help, just call out." Rochelle said from the other side of the door, audibly smirking.

Ellis snorted, hiding his face against the taller man's neck, enjoying the vibration as he shot back, "Oh, fuck off!"

"Funny…" Ellis started, biting his lip as he walked his fingers up Nick's chest, curling them around his neck to play with the soft hair at the back of his head, "was thinkin' we should be doin' somethin' similar right 'bout now."

It was Nick's turn to snort now, feeling lighter and warmer and younger than he had in months. Like he could finally breathe. He wrapped one of his arms around Ellis's shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Then, with a smirk of his own, "Me too, sweetheart."


End file.
